


Lost and Found

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Bluebird's Illusion, Canon - First Anime, Community: springkink, F/M, Pride!Ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  If Edward Elric is dead, who is the person Winry keeps seeing?  <br/>Disclaimer:  Arakawa owns Fullmetal Alchemist, and the group that designed BBI owns that idea, at least.  I’m not making money off of this, I promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

The sun was setting the first time she saw him, a dark figure back-lit by orange rays. He’d been standing in the cemetery, the breeze whipping his loose hair around. Her heart leapt in her chest, her mouth went dry – but it couldn’t be. 

The military told her he was missing; was presumed dead. Miss Riza had brought the letter herself, her apology succinct as she explained what little she knew of how it had happened; that Fuhrer Bradley, General Mustang, Edward and Alphonse all died one night in an explosion beneath the military headquarters. From the expression in her eyes, Winry thought Miss Riza knew more about it than she could or would let on. The military had even paid for their funerals, though Edward’s was little more than a memorial service – Alphonse’s body had been recovered, as well as General Mustang’s, but Edward’s had never been located. She and Granny had buried the coffins; Alphonse’s closest to Auntie Trisha, then Edward’s next to Alphonse’s. 

Those funerals had taken place five long years ago. So much had happened since then; Granny’s gravestone joined the rest of the family’s, and Den had fallen asleep one afternoon in the sunlight, and hadn’t woken up. Winry returned to Risembool to take care of her Granny’s customers, as well as traveling back and forth to Rush Valley to see her own. Mentally, she’d given up hope on ever seeing Edward again, but it seemed her heart hadn’t gotten the message. The sane part of her, the analytical part, knew it wasn’t Edward. He would’ve come home with Alphonse, and then – then – 

Her heart decided for her. “Ed!” His name escaped her throat, a wish, a hope, a dream – 

And then the shadow vanished, as if it never had been there in the first place.

Winry laid the flowers she’d picked on the graves, pulling a few weeds from around each of the headstones. Too many people she loved were represented by stones in this cemetery – her parents, Granny, Auntie Trisha. The Elric brothers. Her heart throbbed as she thought on the shadow she’d seen. It seemed to be burnt on her retinas, that image. Not Edward, though, not…he wouldn’t be in Risembool, would he? Miss Riza said the investigation into the explosion was still ongoing, when they’d spoken earlier this year, especially since Fuhrer Bradley also had been involved. Edward would’ve hunted down the person who’d set the explosion. He wouldn’t have stopped…no, Winry shook her head. Edward was no killer. Revenge wouldn’t have meant anything to him, but she could imagine him being taken over by an overwhelming loss. 

“I know what that feels like, Ed,” she whispered to the air. 

The journey home seemed to take a long time, and the skin between her shoulder blades prickled, as if she felt someone watching her. Risembool wasn’t a place where a stranger could hide out easily – there were some forests, but not many, considering how eager sheep were to nibble foliage down to the bare ground. Someone could hide behind the stone walls that contained the sheep, but eventually, someone would see a stranger, and comment on it to everyone else. No one had mentioned anything out of the ordinary; no one had come through the train station or stopped at the tiny inn. No one had asked any questions about the cemetery, and the people buried there. 

It didn’t mean someone wasn’t watching, though, and Winry twisted around, disappointed when she didn’t see anyone. Mentally, she scolded her heart for the hope that still welled within it. Edward Elric was gone, and he wouldn’t be coming back. Not without Al. 

Or so she reminded herself, even if her heart tried to believe otherwise.

X X X

Night had settled across the countryside, and outside, the moon was starting to rise. Supper over with and the leftovers put away and the dishes washed, Winry contemplated her evening. There was a new automail magazine that had come in the mail; a letter from Paninya she could answer, but Winry felt too restless to sit down with either of those things. 

The knock on the door came softly, so faint, Winry nearly missed it. She hesitated, then opened the door. “Hi,” the greeting died in her throat. 

He stood on the other side of the threshold, his fist raised to knock again. Winry’s heart screamed and her throat ached and she thought maybe, maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. 

The light from inside the house showed her a figure she knew all too well, maybe not as well as she wanted, but he was – different. Strange. Not the boy she once knew. Winry felt her lips form his name, though no sound came out. 

He cocked his head, his loose hair falling around his shoulders, and stared at her with puzzled eyes. “Why am I here?” 

Winry clenched her hands together to keep from reaching out to him. “Because,” she managed to say, “because this is home?” The question came out on its own, even though she’d thought – hoped – Ed and Al would eventually come here, once Ed’s military service was over, once they’d healed enough. 

His head tilted the other way, his hair sweeping aside to reveal a line of ink or pigment, trailing over his bare upper arm. “What is wrong with your eyes?” 

Blinking, Winry dashed her tears away. “I’m happy.” 

“Happy?” 

“To see you again.” Taking a step back, Winry gestured at him. “Come inside, please, Ed.” 

He blinked, his brow furrowing for a second. “Ed?” 

“What’s wrong?” Winry asked softly. “Don’t you remember your name?” It might make sense if he didn’t, if Al’s death had done this to him. 

He turned slightly, the frown back on his face. Beyond his profile, fireflies spangled the grass, their lemon-pale lights flickering on and off. Winry shivered, folding her arms around herself. This wasn’t a dream, she told herself. It wasn’t. “Ed,” she said. 

He faced her again, his face clearing. “Pride.” 

“What?” 

“My name is Pride.” 

“Pride.” Winry took a deep breath. Held it. “Would you like to come inside?” 

He stared at her for a long minute. “No,” he said. “I can’t stay.” 

Winry smiled, her heart crumbling just a bit. “Okay.” 

His forehead creased ever so slightly, as he stared off past her shoulder. “I…want to come back.” The words seemed strange to him, as if he was testing them out as he spoke, and wasn’t sure if he liked the way they sounded. Still, he said, “I will come back,” decisively. 

“You’re welcome to.” Winry told herself she wouldn’t get her hopes up. She couldn’t. 

He looked at her again, expressionless. “Thanks,” he said, “Winry.”

Before she could think, move, speak, he was gone into the night.

X X X

Miss Riza called; her quarterly check in. Winry told her about visiting the graves, and asked how the search was going. 

She wasn’t surprised there was no new information. Miss Riza sounded tired and disappointed about it, but Winry couldn’t, wouldn’t tell her what she’d seen. Whom she’d seen. The General’s body had been found, along with Alphonse’s and the Fuhrer’s. And Ed, at least the way he was now, wouldn’t be able to share any information. If he could even remember anything. 

X X X

He came back, though he still refused to come into the house the second time, and the third. 

The fourth time, it was raining, and when Winry asked him in, he came. 

X X X

“Come here, you need to get dried off.” Winry led the way to the bath, pulling down a couple of towels. She held one out to him, and he blinked at her, taking the towel and holding it in his hands. Two flesh hands, two hands that Alphonse had never seen. Winry swallowed and glanced away, not wanting to think about her friend. “You don’t want to catch cold!” she got out.

“I don’t understand.” 

Winry turned back to him, surprised to see him still holding the towel. “Dry off, dummy!” Grabbing the towel out of his hands, she dumped it over his head, beginning to scrub his hair dry. “There! You’re soaked, you need to get out of those clothes, and get dry.” Letting go of the towel, Winry tugged at the shirt plastered to his skin, trying to free it from where it tucked into his pants. 

“Hey!” He took a step back, but not before Winry had pulled the hem of the shirt up, exposing skin marked with still more tattoos. 

Winry sucked down a breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I…” Shaking her head, she started to back up, to turn out of the bathroom to give him some privacy. 

His hand on her wrist stopped her. “You’re shaking.” 

“It’s cold,” Winry said, focused on the door. If she pulled the right way, she knew she could break free and get through the opening. 

He tugged, making her stumble backward. Winry landed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. His shirt soaked through the back of her dress; his skin was cool where it pressed against hers. His chin rested on her shoulder and Winry shivered, closing her eyes. “You’re warm,” he said. His fingers bunched in the front of her dress. “So warm.” 

“Your clothes, they’re wet. You should,” Winry said, shuddering as he exhaled, his breath caressing the top of her breasts, making her nipples stiffen, “take them off. O-once you’re dry, you’ll feel warm again.” 

His arms dropped from around her waist, and Winry nearly lost her balance at the loss of his support. Catching herself, she said, “I’ll find you something to wear,” and hurried out of the bath. She wasn’t running away, she told herself as she made her way to the spare bedroom, where she’d stored Ed and Al’s old stuff they’d left here, so long ago. Still, Winry had to grab hold of the bed frame, leaning over it and gasping for her breath. Her body felt like an electrical current ran through it, making her skin twitch. Clit throbbing, Winry’s skin flushed from that contact with him. She clutched at the bed post, raising her head slightly. Edward and Alphonse smiled at her from a photo across the room. She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see them. 

He moved so much more quietly than Edward ever had, though Winry could still hear him. Was it ingrained, the fact he stepped more heavily with his left leg? Or some sort of muscle memory he just couldn’t shake? Opening her eyes, Winry stared into the mirror behind the picture frame. 

He filled the doorway, his skin unmarked by any of Edward’s scars, but not flawless, not with those reddish marks sweeping over his body. Naked, he stepped through the doorway, his hair still tousled from her toweling of it earlier. Winry watched as he walked across the room, how he hesitated, reaching for the photograph. “Do you remember?” Winry asked, her voice reed thin. “You and Al?” 

His hand fell away and he faced her. “No,” he said, his face still blank, but Winry thought he might be lying, though she wasn’t sure whether he was lying to her or to himself. “I am Pride. I have no memories past the time Father woke me.” 

Winry dug her nails into the bed frame. She nearly shouted, “Then why are you here?” but it came out a wail instead. “Why did you come here?” 

Hands clenching into fists, he narrowed his eyes. A fire banked there, one she hadn’t seen in…years. A reaction, she thought, inhaling sharply. “Because,” he hissed, “you said this was ‘home’. Because you are here. Because I lost everything and everyone else.” He stalked her, across the narrow space between the dresser and the bed, catching hold of her shoulders. The shake he gave her rattled her teeth, forced her to cry out. “Why you?” he raged, his face up close to hers. “Why? Why is it you who makes me feel this way?” 

His breath fanned her mouth. Winry searched his eyes. “You’re hurting me, Ed,” she said, deliberately. 

He shoved her hard, sending her sprawling on the bed. “I am Pride!” he shouted, leaning over her, his hands bracketing her torso. “I am Pride,” he repeated, “and you, you don’t mean, you aren’t…” his voice broke, though his expression didn’t change, nearly as emotionless as a stone, except for the fissures Winry could see forming through that blank façade. 

Reaching up, Winry cupped his cheeks, rubbing her thumbs over his cheekbones. “Ed,” she whispered, and when she tried to draw him down, he came. This time, he shivered, fitting himself on top of her, staring into face. Winry leaned up to kiss him, her eyes open to watch his reaction. 

He trembled. “I am Pride,” he whispered, and kissed her, rough and bruising. “I am,” he said, sounding curious. 

“Ed,” Winry repeated, feeling the heat pooling between her legs. His hips pressed against hers, igniting a flame. She squirmed, making him gasp and flex his body against hers.

He groaned, his hands skimming down her body, finding the hem of her dress. He rolled off of her enough to pull it up. Winry helped him with her brassiere and her panties, tossing both of them aside, then laying back down. He cocked his head, studying her, taking in her breasts and her waist, the thatch of blond curls at the apex of her legs. Her skin flushed at his open admiration but she turned her attention to his body, letting her gaze take him in; broad shoulders and narrow hips, jutting penis that his hand trailed over, almost as if he was unaware he was touching himself. “Pride,” she told him, “call yourself what you want, you’ll still be Ed to me.” Opening her arms, she beckoned him to her. 

Lying down on his side next to her, he traced a line from the hollow of her throat down between her breasts, hesitating briefly when she shivered then continuing down to her navel. His fingers brushed over her curls, making Winry shift her legs. “Don’t tease,” she ordered, “if we’re going to do this, let’s be sinful.” 

He said, “Easy, Winry, you don’t have to get a wrench,” and everything stopped. His eyes went wide, and his face, oh, his face, it was as if all the emotion he’d lost had suddenly flooded back in. Winry’s heart beat in her ears as he – Edward – rocked back, smacking into the bed post. “Oh, god,” he whispered, horror etched onto his face, “oh, god! Al! Roy!” 

Winry put her arms around him, surprised he let her, shocked when he wrapped her in his own embrace. Hot tears splashed in the crook of her neck as Edward cried, the silent sobs making his body heave. Winry held him tight, whispering words of comfort she wasn’t even sure she heard, her lips touching Edward’s hair, his cheek, his shoulder. 

It took some time but Edward finally stopped crying. He wriggled free of her embrace, wiping his face with his forearm. The marks on his arms caught his eye, making him grimace. Sounding tired and bitter, he said, “I made myself forget. Al…he died in my arms. Trying to protect me!” Those words were spat out. “I was trying to keep him safe, Winry.” He slumped over, his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face. “I thought I was doing the right thing, making a deal – a fucking deal with those monsters! And Al and Roy, they paid the price for my stupidity!” 

Winry curled her legs under herself. “You did what you thought was the right thing, Ed.” Hesitant, she touched his hair, petting it when he didn’t shrug her off. “You got Al back.”

Now he moved; a hard shudder that threw him off the bed. “I didn’t! I got another fake body for him; one that failed! He was dying, Winry! He didn’t have long to live, not – not that way.” Leaning his hands on the bed, Edward bared his teeth at her. “I had to save him, and I didn’t want to do it the way they wanted me to!” 

“Who, Ed? Who did you make the deal with?” 

“That bastard,” he spat out, “Hohenheim, and Envy. I’ve been their little pet for the past…I don’t know how long.” Shaking his head, he looked at her through his still-damp bangs. 

“It’s been five years since the funeral,” Winry told him gently. “Miss Riza told me you were missing, and the military sent Al’s body home. You were in the cemetery next to his stone when I first saw you. Do you remember?” Edward scowled, his gaze going past her shoulder. “It’s all right if you don’t, Ed.”

“Envy,” he growled. 

“What?” Winry leaned sideways, trying to catch Edward’s eye. 

He pointed at her. “Get dressed. Get…get a bag, whatever you can carry. I’ve got to get you out of here, before they find you.”

“What? Ed, what are you - ” 

Edward cut her off with his finger on her mouth. “They want me – Hohenheim wants me, still – they have plans and I’m part of them. If they realize I’ve seen you – figure out I’ve remembered everything.” His teeth gritted. “They’ll kill you, Winry. You have to go. Get out of Risembool. Leave Amestris.”

Winry slapped his hand away from her mouth. “I’m not going anywhere, Ed! Risembool is my home!” 

“There’s nothing left for you here!” he snarled. “Granny’s dead, and Al.” Edward grabbed her hands. “You can’t stay here, or Rush Valley. Anywhere in the country, Winry, they’ll find you. But if you leave.” His eyes softened and he rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs. “If you go, maybe to Xing, or even Ishval.” 

“Ed, no.” Winry turned her hands in his. “I can’t leave! I have my customers and my friends.” 

“And your life, Winry!” Edward gripped her hands more tightly. “I can’t lose you, too!” 

Winry took a deep breath, catching Edward’s tension. “All right,” she said slowly, “but I’m not going to leave without you.” 

“Winry,” he groaned, “they’ll follow me. They need me for their fucking plans. Remember? I just told you!”

“I don’t care if they’ve got a collar and a leash on you, Ed. I’m not leaving Amestris unless you’re going with me.” She glowered, setting her jaw. 

Edward’s larynx bobbed. “Fine!” he snapped finally, “I’ll go with you.” He pointed at her. “Just to make sure you’re settled someplace safe. Now, will you get dressed and go pack? Or do I have to drag you out of here naked?”

Winry climbed off the bed, grabbing her underwear. “Some of your old clothes are in the closet,” she said, pointing, “and I can braid your hair, if you want.” Somehow, she managed not to blush when Edward looked her way, tilting her chin higher under his appraising gaze. “What?”

“I guess.” Edward stopped, then tried again. “I’m glad I found my way here, Winry.” 

Smiling, Winry leaned over, kissing his cheek, her lips lingering for a few seconds. “I’m glad you found your way home, Ed.” 

He caught hold of her hand, squeezing it. “Me, too, Winry. Me, too.” Swatting her backside, he said, “Get dressed. We can’t waste any more time.” 

Winry pulled on her underwear, leaving her dress where it lay on the floor. If they were traveling, she needed something more practical; especially if they were going into the desert. She paused for a second, studying Edward and the changes to his body. No automail, no scars, those strange markings that covered his body in a design that she didn’t recognize. But his eyes were the same; so easily read, so beautiful, like the sun. 

She’d seen his silhouette on the cemetery hill, and had known who he was, even without hope. It couldn’t be – he couldn’t be, but he was. 

“Stop staring, Winry! Get dressed!” Edward snapped. 

Was he blushing? Deciding it didn’t matter, Winry said, “Remember to get a jacket, Ed. It’s still raining.” But only outside the house. Inside her heart, it was like the sun had finally come out. 

X X X


End file.
